The Aftermath of a Letter Gone Wrong
by CrimsonLeather
Summary: After writing the last letter that signaled the disappearance of Jack Frost, fourteen-year-old Jamie is tormented every night by his "mistake" with tears and guilt-and the wind wasn't making him feel any better. [A short one-shot fic based on an existing fan fiction titled "One Letter at a Time" by user UncottonlyCotton.]


_Well now! It's been a long, long while since I last posted a fic up here, and I must apologize, because my attention went somewhere else. OTL  
All right, Jack Frost and Jamie and the wind character all do not belong to me, they belong to the ROTG franchise belonging to the lovely person who created them and Dreamworks.  
The story "One Letter at a Time" from which this one-shot is based on belongs to UncottonlyCotton, and I have her permission to post this one-shot up here.  
_

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**The Aftermath of a Letter Gone Wrong**

A cold night's breeze, terribly and painfully icy, was all the little boy could remember. Well, he wasn't little anymore—little Jamie had grown some since the last time the frost guardian brought him a letter, and apparently took this boy's letter with him into some icy realm far over either poles of the Earth. He knew it—he just knew it! Half of his guts were telling him that it was just fine to tell Jack all that that stubborn guardian had to know about his feelings, while the other half just screamed to him, "NO!" Capital N, capital O. _NO_.

But, look who didn't listen to the latter half. Look who's bawling his eyes off helplessly on his ready-to-be-soaked bed, while still trying to be quiet as not to pique the interest of his mother from the other room. Look who's trying to keep himself warm even under sheets and sheets of his bed, prying away from the cold wind that hissed from the window. It hissed, all right, and it started to feel like it was snarling. Not because Jamie believed Jack Frost, his best buddy, was angry at him, no—but because the wind was sending in its punishment to the little boy… for probably hurting the guardian and causing him to slip away and never come back.

Jack has always said the wind had its own personality; it was like a person, having a mind and body of its own, complete with feelings and emotions. From what he gathered of Jack's stories of the wind taking his free spirit into flight and accompanying him and following his simple commands, Jamie was beginning to think the wind hated him—

Hated little fourteen-year-old James Bennett for scarring old Jack Frost's cold but beating heart.

He shuddered, trying not to let the tears get ahead of him, and the sound of the wind's raspy voice calling to him through the half-opened window—that very window he still kept open every day and every night in hopes that Jack would come back to him… just like the old times…

Jamie was getting scared as the window started to rattle… and suddenly he could hear a soft howling in his ears; the wind seemed to be crying. He didn't know how, and he was starting to believe that he was dreaming, but it seemed like the wind had died down to sobbing, circling his room… has the storm passed? Cautiously, Jamie reached out from the sheets, rubbing tears off his all-rosy cheeks as he let his hand peer out from the his blanket. Holding it out, he could feel the wind passing through the gaps of his fingers, the sweat and the tears on his palms growing cold.

The wind was telling him something… but he didn't speak element, or whatever Jack used to understand the wind's words, but he knew it had decided to be more patient with him. With which, he decided to try talking.

"I'm…" he started. It felt slightly embarrassing with how he was talking to blank space; he had no idea where to look, where to direct his words to. But he tried. "I'm… sorry…"

Atta boy, that's a good start. The wind grew quiet, as if it was listening to him. Jamie had no idea how it became so quiet all of a sudden—it kind of reminded him of Sophie, during the rare times they would quarrel. Maybe if he treated it that way, things could get better..?

Big, brown eyes were still searching for the invisible form in the room as he continued, sniffing in the process, "I… I know it was stupid of me to write that down, but… I was just being honest, okay? I didn't know it would end like this, so… I'm very sorry if you're upset, and I… got Jack upset. But I just… really miss him." He stopped for a while to breathe, fresh new tears trickling down his weary red eyes all the way to his jaw—the salty tread stinging his already sore cheeks. "I miss him so much," he continued. "I really want to see him again—"

This time, Jamie broke into a silent sob, the hiccups coming around. It was tamer than the turmoil of tears from before, even from nights passed. He would cry himself to sleep through violent sobs and soft whimpers, almost inaudible words screamed at the pillow—so much drama these past few months.

But the wind, now like a mother's care, caressed the locks of his hair softly. It was like the wind had embraced him, as if a storm never passed the Bennett household, nor the sleepy neighborhood Jamie's family lived in.

The boy found his tears and the wind lulling him to sleep, and so he slowly lay down his head on the miraculously dry pillow, his rattling mind tiring him like a bittersweet hymn in the night, which was over for now. Jack Frost, no matter how much he wailed and whined and wept, was not coming back any time soon. And he was tired—Jamie was tired, there was still school, and he needed to sleep and open his eyes to a new day.

He told himself, that very moment, that when he wakes up, he'll start taking things into consideration and looking back to the previous nights, months of waiting for any reply or sight of Jack Frost. But for now, he needed to sleep. And with his slumber, the wind carried itself away from Jamie's now peaceful room, careful to leave the window open to let the familiar cold in to further lull the soundly sleeping boy in his dreams.

However, the night wasn't so over to the male perched on top of the boy's roof, two hands firmly gripping on a wooden staff enchanted with ice and snow. While little Jamie had a little fit in his room, and a some disturbance from the wind, silver-haired Jack Frost sat there listening and occasionally peeking in the unsightly scene that pierced the depths of his heart.

"Wind, you're probably a woman if you have a human form, huh?" he softly cajoled, slightly smirking at who knows where. "You didn't have to tell him off like that. He's fourteen, for goodness' sake…"

Jack felt a breeze pass through his hair and graze his nose, to which he sneered at. "Are you angry, or are you sad… or maybe even caring. Which is it, really?"

Another breeze, slightly harder than the previous move.

"Damn it, you're so fickle."

Jack could only shake his head as he floated to the window, peeking in through the glass at the boy who had gone into dreamland, all curled up under the sheets of his warm bed. His usually fun-seeking face that lit up with a grin or a playful smirk morphed to a sad frown. A part of him wanted to come in and watch the boy sleep until he woke up, while the other pulled him away—actually, further away from the window itself, as if it would be dangerous for him.

As tempting as it sounded, he didn't want to change his mind about what he decided upon months ago. That just wasn't his style.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie," he heard himself muttering under his breath, a slight tremble in his voice was evident. "I miss you so much, too. But I'm sorry…"

_I can't do this anymore, Jamie_, he continued in his thoughts, his head hanging low. _I can't have you seeing me, I can't have you thinking about me. I can't have you behaving like this at all!.._

"Just…" He bit his lip, gripping at his staff with his left hand as the other stroked the glass window almost desperately. "Just grow up fast and forget about me, will you..!?"

Slightly surprised with what he said, he felt a great pang in his chest that pierced through him deep and hard. A cold, frozen tear rolled down his cheek. Confused for a while, he brushed his finger over the tear as the frozen water drop joined the said finger before it disappeared into a minute, ice-blue snow flake, falling down until it dispersed.

Feeling there was nothing else to do, and just seeing Jamie may lead to something he doesn't want to do, Jack Frost scowled at the window, shaking his head, before having the wind send him soaring to the night sky—to wherever the wind took him, as long as it was away from this neighborhood. He can't promise to be gone forever, but he'll take his time alone in the poles or someplace where he doesn't have to constantly remember the boy.

"Do us a favor, Jamie," he whispered, half knowing the wind will take his voice wherever it pleases. "Just forget about me, and move on."

The wind listened. The wind conveyed. And Jack Frost closed his eyes.

"It'll be easier for the both of us…"


End file.
